


A Scattering of Leaves

by itachiscatears



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Humour, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29612601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itachiscatears/pseuds/itachiscatears
Summary: Assorted Hashirama/Madara (and occasional Hashirama/Madara/Mito) drabbles.Chapter 1 (Peace, T): Madara is unbelievably bored by how peaceful life is now that Konohagakure is prospering and Hashirama is busy with Hokage things. To satiate his lust for both peace and destruction, he and Hashirama have a battle date once or twice a month.Chapter 5 (The Scroll, M): Hashirama isalwaysprepared.Chapter 6 (Immortal, T): Hashirama unveils his latest stony endeavour.Chapter 7 (Mushroom Man, T): Hashirama should probably not be allowed in the forest unsupervised, Madara learns.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara/Uzumaki Mito
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56





	1. Peace (Hashirama/Madara, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Originally posted to Tumblr in Nov 2020.)
> 
> Madara is unbelievably bored by how peaceful life is now that Konohagakure is prospering and Hashirama is busy with Hokage things. To satiate his lust for both peace and destruction, he and Hashirama have a battle date once or twice a month.

_“HASHIRAMAAAA!”_

The First Hokage sighs and turns around in his chair to peer out the window. “Madara, I’ve just had breakfast.”

“DANCE WITH ME!”

“Tobirama is going to yell at me if I don’t finish my work!”

“SENJU COWARD!”

“Lord Hokage!” two of his guards yelp, bursting into his office. “Lord Uchiha is—”

He flaps his hands dismissively. “Madara just wants me to go out and play with him. Has the Wind envoy arrived yet?”

“No,” they reply weakly.

“Alright. Quick but devastating, I suppose.” He shrugs out of his robes and hat, rolling up his sleeves. “I will be back before lunch.”

“Yes, Lord Hokage…”

*

Hashirama senses Madara approaching at a run. A sweat breaks out on his back.

“SENJU BASTARD!”

Hashirama doesn’t let his smile fall. He gestures appeasingly to the daimyo’s men.

“My advisor, Lord Uchiha.”

The men are quaking as demonic energy surges above them. Hashirama sighs and looks up. Madara had gotten new armour, he notes absently. It looks dashing.

“Lord Uchiha is always ready to defend the village,” he says brightly. “He’s pleased to make your acquaintance, I’m sure.”

Madara unsheathes his blade and points it at them. “I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS!”

“I’ll deal with you later, Madara. I have a meeting to attend. Maybe you _read the schedule_ before you got dressed up?”

“YOU COWARD—”

Hashirama rolls his eyes and splits himself into three. One clone leaps towards the pole Madara is crouching on and the other disappears into the surrounding trees.

Madara easily destroys the first clone and takes chase, bounding across roofs. The third clone splits into a further two.

“Apologies for the disruption,” Hashirama sighs. “I’m afraid that won’t amuse him for long. Shall we get the meat of our discussion out of the way? Please follow me.”

*

The market is busy this time of afternoon. Newly released Academy students are buying sweets and toys, civilian children are playing games in the street and customers are haggling over produce.

_“SEEENNJUUU!”_

The noisy market quiets for a split second before everyone goes back to their rubber kunai and bruised tomatoes. Hashirama smiles apologetically at the Academy instructors he had been speaking with.

“I’m afraid I’m late. We arranged to battle to the death at four. Excuse me.”

“Of course, Lord Hokage. Good luck.”

*

Madara has just settled down with a nice cup of tea when the floor shudders beneath him. A crack like thunder sends his ears ringing.

_“MAAADAAARAAA!”_

He dodges the tree roots that burst from the floor and leaps onto the ceiling, slashing the seeking roots with the kunai he always keeps tucked into his house clothes.

“I’ve just made tea! And my tummy hurts!”

Thick green vines wrap around him. Hashirama’s chakra plunges into him: his stomach ache disappears and his mood brightens. He severs the vines and dodges mini wood dragons that snap at his ankles as he sprints towards the weapons’ room. He grabs his sword just as he is engulfed by earth.

He emerges in the valley like a dark-haired shoot, Hashirama posing boisterously across from him. His face is alight.

“Dinner at eight,” Madara reminds him before spitting an enormous fireball at his feet.


	2. Dank Memes (Hashirama/Madara, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama is starting to get the hang of this Ninstagram thing the youths use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr in Nov 2020. 
> 
> (This is also known as ‘Short King Madara AU’ because at this point I believed Google when it told me that 179cm = 5’8”. Spoiler: It does not. I cry.)

“Madara, look! I’m finally getting the hang of this Ninstagram thing! I’ve made my first post! I believe it is what the youth call a _may-may_.”

> **Happily married to my 5’5” king for 8 years while y’all are getting ghosted by 6’2” alcoholic genins but go off about how you only date tall men I guess :)  
> **

Madara stares.

“What?" he pouts. "You don’t like my picture? Should I have used a different filter?”

Madara doesn’t even remember the photograph being taken. Their supposed marriage is also a surprise to him, but more importantly:

“I’m five foot _eight_.”

“You are?” Hashirama appears genuinely surprised. He pats Madara’s hair. “Ha ha! Your hair is always so fluffy, I thought it added a few inches.”

Madara throws his heavy hair back and stands nose to—well, nose to chin with him.

Hashirama only pats him again, delighted. Madara considers slashing his knees with the kunai hidden in his obi, but it wouldn’t do to attack the Hokage in public. He’ll tie knots into Hashirama’s hair when he falls asleep tonight; Hashirama sleeps like the dead next to him.


	3. Good Hand (Hashirama/Madara/Mito, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Originally posted to Tumblr in Nov 2020.)
> 
> Hashirama is out late gambling. His wife(s) come to find him.

A sweat breaks out on Hashirama’s back. Two bundles of sinister chakra are approaching from either side.

A large calloused hand clamps down on his shoulder. A smaller scarred hand clamps down on his elbow.

“Evening,” he says brightly.

“It’s nearly five in the morning,” Mito informs him coldly.

“And you have a meeting with the daimyo in four hours,” Madara snarls in his ear.

“Just a few more minutes! I’m on a winning streak!”

“He isn’t,” a patron to his left says helpfully.

“I’ve got a good hand!” Hashirama says desperately. “Just two more minutes!”

Mito acquiesces, but Madara does not remove the iron-like grip on his shoulder. Even in his drunken state, Hashirama cannot help noticing how his hair is unbrushed. He had thrown a travelling cloak over his sleeping clothes. Mito, when he rolls his head around to look at her, is wearing the same clothes as when he had said goodbye to her that evening, sans lipstick and earrings.

Madara slaps him across the head. “Pay attention or we’re leaving!”

Hashirama hurriedly returns blurry eyes to his cards. He focuses all of his energy on making the right call and nearly topples out of his chair, cheering, when he wins the round - and a healthy pile of coins.

“One more! I can double this, I know it!”

Madara hauls him out of his chair as Mito collects his winnings and settles his tab – though Hashirama thinks, personally, that being Hokage should get him a few free drinks every now and again. He whines and complains, but neither take any notice.

Two arms wrap around him. Hashirama may be a little off his tits, but he doesn’t miss the sudden spike in his blood pressure at the proximity of two powerful shinobi. They also smell nice.

_Oh no_ , he thinks despondently as he is frog-marched out of the warm, smoky leisure house. _This is my kink._


	4. Madara's Hair (Hashirama/Madara, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mysteries should never be scrutinised too closely – including Madara’s hair.

"Do you hear something?"

Madara grunts.

"I definitely hear something. An animal?" Hashirama peers around the garden where they are lounging, shogi board between them. "Is one of your cats stuck somewhere?"

"Oh, that." Madara reaches into his hair and pulls out a kitten. He sets it down and they watch it trot away, sprawling on the grass and stretching tiny paws in the air.

"So," Hashirama says at length.

Madara shuts his eyes in irritation. Hashirama holds his tongue and pours them more tea as he waits for his next turn. Madara, too lazy to sit up from his sprawl, uses his toe to move down the board. His strategy is somehow _still_ superior.

"I do have to ask," Hashirama says abruptly.

Madara grunts in warning.

He stares dejectedly at Madara's hair: thick and black as pitch, hiding all sorts of mysteries. They each move along the board, capturing pieces.

_"Whatelsedoyouhaveinthere?"_

Madara's left eye pops open. He glares at him and reaches slowly into his loose sleeve.

Hashirama's clones erupt from the ground just as Madara leaps away, slinging a kunai at his face. It just misses him and embeds itself into the side of the house; Hashirama barely notices, diving after him.

"JUST HOLD STILL!"

"KISS MY ASS!"


	5. The Scroll (Hashirama/Madara, M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama is _always_ prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [@fictionalquacker's](https://fictionalquacker.tumblr.com/) galaxy brain thinking on [this post](https://itachiscatears.tumblr.com/post/644747590869614592/why-did-hashirama-have-that-giant-scroll-did-he).
> 
> Apparently the scroll actually has a canon use, but we can dream :'(

Hashirama pulls back far enough to nuzzle his temple, panting gently against sweat-damp skin. “Here?”

“Here in the woods?” Madara asks, tone unreadable even to himself. On one hand he can see the appeal, but they are undoubtedly exposed. “Are you planning to fuck me against a tree or will you give me the honour of building a cabin?”

“Whatever you like,” Hashirama says in his ear, undaunted by his bold, acidic words. “I can cover us with foliage if you prefer the tree.”

Tempting—so tempting. But Izuna and Tobirama are still sparring on the eastern training field and may come looking for them; judging by their last few encounters, stolen kisses after a spar or tense meeting, neither he nor Hashirama can be trusted to keep a look-out.

“Cabin.”

Hashirama kisses him soundly on the mouth and pulls away. He relocates two trees with a sincere apology and throws up a small one-room cabin. Why they had needed to build a cabin in the middle of the forest seems easier to explain than fucking in the open. 

Madara dumps his weapons inside. The walls are thick, he notes, but they will have to be quiet. He feels a little dizzy with the realisation that they are going to have sex.

Hashirama closes the door and sheds his armour and unneeded weapons. Madara, eager for distraction, eyes the over-large scroll that he usually has on him. In all of their years battling since he debuted it in their twenties, Madara has never seen him _use_ it.

Hashirama catches his eye, smiles wickedly, and picks it up. Madara watches with increasing bafflement as he drops it in the middle of the cabin and unrolls it. It looks suspiciously like a much nicer version of the thin pallets Madara is accustomed to sleeping on during missions.

“What the fuck is that?” he demands. He has a bad feeling.

“It’s a sleeping pallet! And—” Hashirama reaches into the folds of the top-sheet and comes up with a thin summoning scroll that contains, as it turns out, several well-sealed pots. “—oil.”

He looks incredibly proud of himself.

“What, in case you need a nap and a massage in the middle of warring?” Madara snaps. Images of Hashirama unrolling the scroll-bed for nameless, faceless shinobi flash through his mind. “I’ve never seen you lay anyone wounded on this thing. I’ve never seen you use it at all.”

“Well, of course not. You haven’t consented to sleeping with me before, so I’ve never _had_ a use for it.”

Madara stares at him. Stares at the nice, comfy-looking pallet and the oil. “You’ve carried this thing with you for _years_ ,” he blurts out.

Hashirama scratches his cheek, looking suddenly embarrassed. “Yes. I may have been overly optimistic in the beginning that you would get the hint and fuck me stupid after a nice clash. But! Its day has come! The only downside to fucking in the field or woods is the lack of lubricant, but as you can see, that is not a problem.” He proudly pats a pot of oil. “The best you’ll find in the Fire country!”

“We don’t have time to talk about this,” Madara says as he sheds his armour and kicks off his sandals, “but trust that I will be yelling at you later. Take off your clothes.”

Hashirama obediently undresses even as he asks a little sulkily, “What are you going to yell at me for?”

“I’ll think of something,” he breathes, eyes locked on brown skin.


	6. Immortal (Hashirama & Madara, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama unveils his latest stony endeavour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Furisodes, as far as I know, used to be worn by boys and girls (not adults).

"What in the fuck," Madara says, "is _that_."

Hashirama's proud smile falls. "You don't like it?"

"I'm wearing a furisode."

"I thought it would look artistic! I've seen you wear one before!"

Madara shuts his eyes. "I was a _child_. What bet did you evidently lose?"

He laughs nervously.

_"Hashirama."_

He slumps in adject misery. "I lost a game of cards to a sculptor from the Land of Earth."

"One game?"

He smiles winningly. "One to... fifteen... perhaps..."

Madara stares stonily back.

He slumps even further, head nearly sweeping the ground. He makes a pathetic sound. "He didn't just want money—and I paid out of pocket, you know! He said business has been bad and he wanted to make something important!"

"Me in a furisode."

"You look very strong," Hashirama insists weakly. "Very powerful. Very—uh—handsome."

"I didn't say I didn't."

Hashirama peers at him through a curtain of hair. "Ah... you don't hate it?"

"I didn't say _that_ either."

But Hashirama cheers up immediately, slapping him heartily on the back. Madara nearly doubles over with the force of it.

"And look, we're almost the same height! I asked him to make your hair extra spikey."

Madara considers shoving him off the ledge. It's not a high ledge – Hashirama would probably survive the impact.

"You've got a scary look on your face," Hashirama says with an anxious laugh. "Let's get lunch, hmm?"

"I thought you brought me _here_ to have lunch."

He had been suspicious about the lack of food when it became clear they weren't going to Hashirama's house or a restaurant, but he had assumed Hashirama had sent a clone ahead.

"Oh! We could have a picnic on my head!"

Madara nearly asks what's wrong with _his_ head and bites his tongue. Hashirama's apparent obsession with their giant faces looming over the village should not be encouraged.


	7. Mushroom Man (Hashirama & Madara, T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama should probably not be allowed in the forest unsupervised, Madara learns.

“—of course, the Yamanakas are very opinionated. Tobirama wants to slit his throat. I find they’re easier to get along with after a nice pot of tea.”

“Poisoned tea?” Madara asks hopefully.

Hashirama shoots him a sly look.

“Hashirama. You didn’t actually poison the Yamanakas.”

“Of course not,” he says in an entirely unconvincing tone.

Madara eyes him, following a few paces behind. “You asked me to look out for mushrooms.”

“I wouldn’t poison them with mushrooms,” Hashirama says distractedly, picking some uninteresting-looking leaves and adding them to his basket. “Really, I could have you killed for accusing the Hokage of such things.”

“Is that so?”

“Don’t sound so _excited_ ,” Hashirama says despairingly. “It’s no fun if you think it’s a challenge. Oh! Is that a mushroom?”

Madara squints across the forest floor. He can see something brownish. “Might be.”

Hashirama slips through some tightly-packed trees and crouches in the grass. “It is!” he crows, plucking the cluster from their home.

“What are you so happy about?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re just mushrooms. _Are_ you planning to poison someone?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Hashirama says archly. He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, _“Uncultured Uchihas.”_

Madara snorts and climbs over a fallen tree, absently brushing a shed leaf from his hair. The sun is high in the sky, filtering through the trees in uneven beams.

“Izuna hates mushrooms. Once when we were children he found some on the edge of the compound and thought they were the same ones Granny cooked with, but just touching them had his skin— _what are you doing!”_

Hashirama startles visibly. “What is it?”

_“Spit that out!"  
_

He finishes chewing and swallows. “Don’t worry. It’s safe.”

Madara activates his Sharingan without a thought, vision sharpening until he is able to see the distance between them.

“You absolute idiot! That’s poisonous! Spit it up!”

“This?”

Madara feels slapping it out of his hand might be a tad dramatic, but he does wrench the basket off his arm and look inside.

“I thought you were an expert. These things can kill you! Not to mention you’re eating it _raw!”_

“No, no, I’ve been eating these all my life,” Hashirama says with humour. “Really, it’s quite safe.”

“I _assure_ you, these are poisonous. The shit-yourself-and-possibly-die-after-days-of-agonising-stomach-pain kind.”

“Well,” Hashirama says at length, “I suppose they _do_ make me a bit gassy. But they taste very good so I’ve never minded.”

“I’m sorry,” Madara says, flabbergasted, “but do you just walk around eating any mushroom you find?”

“I am _somewhat_ of an expert,” he says gently, then brightens. “I have an entire book of mushrooms I’ve found, actually. Do you want to see it sometime? There _were_ a few mushrooms that made me throw up, so of course I avoid those and made sure to note them down. And there was one mushroom that gave me very strange dreams. Tobirama claims I came home, lay down and just stared at the ceiling for nearly a day straight before turning over and vomiting all over my futon.”

“Why are you _smiling_ ,” Madara asks, pained.

“It’s a fond memory, is all.”

“Hallucinating for a day straight and vomiting?”

“They were _very_ strange dreams,” Hashirama says mysteriously.

“That’s not a good thing!”

“Have you ever eaten that sort of mushroom?”

“No, because I don’t go around putting unknown plants in my mouth!”

“A mushroom is a fungus. And that’s interesting that you seem to be very against it, actually. The elders sometimes drink a special mushroom tea together. Tobirama doesn’t approve and truthfully it _does_ look and smell horrific, but I am fascinated by the effects. I’ve almost convinced Tobirama to let me drink it – like an experiment.” He winks. “I doubt I will react to the usual dose, so we can test the doses until I do. I’m in for quite the experience, I hear.”

“You Senjus,” he says in disgust. “ _We_ smoke tobacco like civilised people. Have you perhaps tried it?”

“No, can’t say I approve,” Hashirama says without an ounce of humour. “The smoke inside the leisure house is quite enough for me, irritates my lungs quite a bit, though I luckily don’t notice it as much when I’m drunk.”

“You _do_ hear the absolute nonsense that comes out of your mouth, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, taking his basket back and picking up a small brown mushroom.

_“Put that down!”_ Madara screeches. “I won’t be responsible for your shitting, convulsing body when that mushroom catches up with you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deadly fungus: >:)
> 
> Hashirama: Yummy!!!
> 
> Deadly fungus: Am I a fucking joke to you


End file.
